Electric Light (Blair Dubh Trilogy #3) (6 page)

“Freya hen, what’s the matter?” he said, hastening to her side, the concern on his face at odds with his intimidating appearance.

“Craig’s in Blair Dubh. There’s been a shooting. Three people are dead.”

“Jeezo. I heard something about that on the radio but I didn’t realise it was in Blair Dubh. What the hell is wrong with that place?”

“I wish I knew. Apparently Adam Michie, the young blond lad who lives in the village, went on the rampage.”

“Adam, I met him the last time I was there. He seemed so harmless.”

“Apparently he snapped and took out Fred and Joanie with a sniper rifle before killing himself.”

“Fucking hell. Is Craig alright?”

“Yeah, he’s fine.”

“That’s a relief. It said on the radio he was shot at.”

Freya shot up out of her chair, eyes wide. “What?”

Davey realised his error. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No, he fucking didn’t.”

“Oh crap,” he muttered, running his fingers through his long beard.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, I’ve probably got it all arse about face as usual.”

“Davey,” she said in a warning tone.

He sighed heavily. “Okay. Apparently a police officer and two other men went into the cottage to check on the two residents, who it turned out were dead. The sniper had set a trap and opened fire on them when they went into the bedroom. One of the men got hit in the arm. Nothing serious, just a graze. That’s what it said on the radio. The story’s probably been sexed up anyway. What actually happened was probably nothing like that.”

Freya took a deep breath, willing away the rising hysteria. “The bastard. Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Because he didn’t want to worry you. He knows you’re already on edge.”

“He didn’t tell me because he wants to spend another day in the village, he thinks Adam’s innocent.”

“He does? Why? Sounded pretty cut and dried to me.”

“Obviously not.”

“Maybe he wants to be sure. He’ll come back tomorrow, you’ll see.”

“You don’t understand. Craig’s an amazing copper, he has a sixth sense for the job. If he thinks something isn’t right then believe me, it’s not.” Freya was torn between tears and violent anger, the same anger she’d struggled with for so many years and had overcome. Now she was wrestling with it once more. She snatched up her phone and tried to call Craig back, but it wouldn’t connect.

“Bloody signal,” she muttered, throwing her phone back onto her desk. The signal in Blair Dubh was temperamental at best. What should she do? The thought of going back to that village terrified her and there was no way she would risk her son’s life by taking him with her, but she was desperate to go down there and drag her husband home. However that left her in a quandary. Bad things happened in Blair Dubh when she was there. What if her arrival made it worse? Plus the more she pushed Craig the more he’d resist, he could be stubborn like that. She would only be on a fool’s errand and at the same time put everyone in the village at risk. She would be better off staying put but the sheer helplessness nearly overwhelmed her.

“Freya, he’ll be fine,” said Davey, firmly grasping her by the shoulders. “Stop panicking.”

“I can’t. You don’t know what that place is like.”

Davey recalled seeing Freya beaten and bleeding on the ground while Craig’s mad ex-girlfriend tried to finish her off. “I think I have a wee idea but it won’t do anyone any good if you go charging in there. He’ll be back tomorrow safe and sound. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Take Petie out somewhere fun and cheer yourself up?”

“Yeah, I just might. Thanks Davey, I don’t think I’ll be able to concentrate now anyway.”

Davey watched Freya leave, misery etched all over her face. Everything had been on the up for her - she had the man of her dreams, a child and a great career and now this had landed on her shoulders. He experienced a sense of anger against Craig for spoiling it for her. If anyone had suffered enough it was Freya and he should have considered her feelings more and come home. But then again, Craig was a good copper and would be determined to see justice done, it was written in his DNA so it would be impossible for him to go against that instinct. Freya understood that, which was why she was restraining herself and letting him do what he felt he had to do. Davey just hoped the danger in Blair Dubh was indeed well and truly gone.

CHAPTER 7

“I’ve already given my statement,” snapped Craig. “Why are you in here bothering me about it?”

Hughes’s smile was patronising. “You haven’t given it officially, you’ve only spoken to the TFU.”

“Actually I spoke to DI Murton, so why don’t you get back to the McNab’s cottage and do your bloody job.”

Hughes’s chubby face flushed again. “You have no right to speak to me in that manner.”

“I have every right after your breathtaking incompetence nearly killed my wife,” Craig spat in his face. “Just the sight of you makes me want to smash your face in.”

“You can’t speak…”

Craig grabbed him by the front of his stab vest and pulled him close. “Finish that sentence and see what happens.”

A hand rested on his arm. “Craig, let the man go.”

His mum’s voice barely permeated the rage that was slowly enveloping Craig. Hughes watched, shocked as a shadow appeared to descend over his face, making his grey eyes shine. He winced as the strong hands gripping him tightened.

“Craig,” repeated Nora in a louder, stronger voice. “Stop it. He’s not worth ruining your career for.”

With a snort of disgust Craig shoved him away and Hughes hurried out the door, head bowed in embarrassment, everyone talking and pointing at him as he went.

“You okay?” said Nora, a little concerned by the fury in her son’s eyes. Yes he had a temper but he looked ready to commit murder.

“He just winds me up,” he muttered. He smiled when she hugged him. “I’m fine, really.”

Nora forced herself to release him, not wanting to embarrass him in front of the entire pub. “I’m just so glad you’re safe.”

“Obviously,” he said good-naturedly.

She studied him carefully. For a second there his face hadn’t looked like his own, his hatred had such complete possession of him. “I bet Freya wasn’t impressed when you told her you were staying.”

“No she wasn’t, so I didn’t tell her I was shot at.”

“You bloody numpty.”

“What have I done?”

“It’s all over the news. All you’ve done is guarantee that she’ll hear it from someone else.”

“Crap. I didn’t think of that,” he said, taking out his phone, which started to ring in his hand. “Damn.”

“Glad I’m not you. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of a telling off from Freya. Honestly Craig you are an intelligent boy but sometimes you can be such a walloper.”

He took the whisky glass from her hand. “I think you’ve had enough of that.”

“Hey, give me that back. I need it to steady my nerves. My only son was shot at today.”

Craig wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, still clutching the ringing phone. “I’m fine, really. Don’t worry about me.”

“You were lucky Craig.” She ran a liver-spotted hand down her face. “I still can’t believe Adam shot at you. Why?”

“That’s what I keep wondering,” he replied, the feeling that something was very wrong refusing to go. He’d tried convincing himself that it was shock telling him there was more to this than met the eye but the shock had gone and his instinct was still screaming at him to look into it further.

“I’d better answer this,” he said, heading towards the door.

“Where are you going?” said Nora, grabbing his arm.

“Outside.” The phone went silent in his hand. “Crap.”

“You can’t go outside after what’s just happened. Are you mad?” She lowered her voice before continuing. “What if you’re right and it wasn’t Adam?”

Craig nodded thoughtfully. “Alright, I’ll go into the back room.”

“Thank you,” she breathed with relief, settling herself onto a barstool and downing the rest of her whisky before asking Gordon to refill her glass. It numbed the fear gnawing away inside her as well as the pain in her ankle.

“Freya, it’s me,” said Craig. He cringed at the angry tirade she fired down the line at him. “I’m sorry babe, I didn’t want to worry you.”

“You didn’t want to worry me? Are you completely insane? Didn’t it occur to you that I might hear about it anyway?”

“To be honest sweetheart, no. I was going to tell you when I got back.”

“Because you didn’t want me to insist you come home. Well I bloody well am. You’re coming back tonight and you’re bringing Nora with you.”

“I can’t, I’m already tied up in the investigation, they won’t let me go until really late and I’m already knackered after the day I’ve had. You don’t want me driving tired, do you?” It was a low trick because he knew she couldn’t say yes.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But you come back first thing in the morning and no excuses.”

“I will.”

“You’d better because if anything happens to you there will be hell to pay.”

“Message received and understood.”

“Silly bugger,” she said, a reluctant smile in her voice.

“God I love you.”

“Love you too. Just get yourself home.”

“I will,” he replied, the seriousness returning to his tone. He looked out of the window at the darkening sky, twilight already setting in. Flashes of lightning lit up the clouds that were drifting towards them from the sea. That was something Freya didn’t need to know.

From his spot at the bar Graeme had a good view of Craig talking on the phone in the back room. He looked troubled, which was understandable, but there was something else, something more. Not that it mattered, he still intended to proceed with his plan. The police were packing up, preparing to clear out for the day, leaving those three local numpties - Sergeant Hughes and his two stooges - to guard the crime scenes. They wouldn’t be enough to stop him.

Craig was pacing now, phone clamped to his ear, obviously trying to placate his wife. She’d probably been against him coming here in the first place and now she would be demanding he return home. He was starting to change his mind about where Craig stood in his grand plan. He’d fought the evil that had come to this village, so really he should think of him as a fellow warrior, a kindred spirit. But then again he resented him for the envy that had settled in his own heart. Craig possessed the one person he had ever felt connected to, who could possibly understand him. Freya. He wanted to obliterate him just for that because these strange emotions made him feel weak and pathetic. Sentiment was something he’d never had to deal with before but when he looked at Craig Donaldson he saw the man he would have liked to have been - the local hero, loving husband and devoted father, avenues that had been closed to him long ago and the jealousy enraged him. It would be worth eradicating DS Craig Donaldson just to make those feelings go away.

Craig had stopped pacing and he had a soppy smile on his face that made Graeme’s muscles stiffen with resentment. He swallowed the feelings back down inside himself, just like he’d been trained to do as a child by the uncaring relatives who had taken him in.
Shut up, stop crying, pull yourself together,
that was all they’d said when the nightmares had haunted him, when the memories had got too much and he’d suddenly burst into tears. Wetting the bed got him the worst punishment - he was made to stand for hours on the cold bare floorboards in just his thin pyjamas, shivering. His aunt and uncle seemed to think it would toughen him up when all it achieved was filling his heart with hate. He’d soon learned that emotion only made bad things happen and it was better if he kept everything in. He’d got very adept at it too and once again the trick worked, leaving him calm and in control again. The corner of his mouth lifted into a smile as he watched Craig on his phone. His fate was decided.

No one noticed as he slipped outside.

Craig was glad to see Gary enter the pub as he concluded his call with Freya.

“Alright Sarge. Was that your sexy missus on the phone?” he grinned.

“Yes, that was Freya.”

“I bet she’s not very happy about you being here?”

“That’s an understatement. I’m going to suffer when I get home.”

“You lucky bugger.”

“Did you want something Gary?” he said, now not so glad to see him.

“TFU and CSI have left for the night. It’s getting dark so they’re going to carry on examining the scene in the morning. They want to reconstruct the bullet trajectories in daylight. Me, Steve and the fud have been left to guard the crime scenes overnight so I just thought I’d check if there’s anything you need us to do and for a cheeky wee pint while I’m at it.”

“I can’t believe the fud allowed that.”

“He didn’t. He’s guarding the McNab home.”

“On his own? I thought he would have palmed that off on you two.”

“You’re joking? He’s hoping for a bit of glory out of all this. He’s probably hoping he’ll find some magical clue CSI missed, the stupid wee prick. I hope Gordon’s arranging one of his famous all-nighters,” he said to the landlord standing behind the bar.

“Too right I am. The village needs it after this shitty day,” he replied, placing a pint on the bar before Gary.

“Good. Best pub in Scotland this,” he said, taking a sip. “Me and Steve thought it would be a good idea to see if you’ve come up with anything yet, you know, about your theory?” said Gary, lowering his voice.

“I wish I had,” sighed Craig. “For now I’m just keeping an eye out.”

“Fair enough. Hello there Nora, how are you doing?”

“Not so good Gary. Someone shot at my son today.”

“Yeah but at least the bastard who did it is dead.”

“Is he?” she replied enigmatically before sipping her whisky.

“Go easy on that Mum, you’re on painkillers.”

“I’ve stopped taking them. Whisky’s much more effective. Top me up Gordon.”

Craig sighed and shook his head.

“So, what’s the plan?” Gary asked Craig.

“There isn’t one.”

“I thought you’d have something up your sleeve.”

“I’ve got sod all pal. Maybe I am just chasing shadows? Adam did it, end of story.”

“Probably but there’s no harm in being sure.”

“I owe it to Adam. I thought he was a serial killer before and it turned out he was being set up by Martin Lynch. What if history’s repeating itself?”

Gary nodded sagely. “Alright. What do we do?”

“Whoever killed Fred and Joanie was local. He knew they were vulnerable and that no one would worry if they weren’t seen for a couple of days. If it wasn’t Adam…”

“Then it’s someone here now.”

They cast suspicious eyes around the room but the scene looked normal. Everyone was in their little groups, talking and drinking. Not one of them remotely resembled a psychopath. Most were too old to start taking pot shots at people out of windows.

Gary spotted the two tourists sitting with Toby. “Who are they?”

“Part of Toby’s murder tour,” said Nora with disgust. “When all this kicked off today they decided it was too exciting to leave. Parasites,” she called loudly across the room. The couple stared into their glasses of white wine, pretending they hadn’t heard.

“Do you mind not abusing my tour group?” chided Toby, striding across the room towards them, large nose stuck up in the air. “Where’s the famous Blair Dubh hospitality?”

“They’ve come here to enjoy the trauma my son and daughter-in-law were put through so they get nothing,” retorted Nora fiercely. “What sort of sickos are they?”

Most of the room had ceased their conversations to listen.

“You’re not wanted here either, you great big stupid stick insect,” continued Nora, jabbing her finger in Toby’s face, slurring her words slightly. “You’re even worse than they are because you’re making money out of it. You disgust me.”

“You know what Nora, I couldn’t care less,” he sneered, throwing back his large oval head.

“You’ve had your say Toby. Sit back down and finish your drink,” said Craig, voice heavy with warning.

“She insulted me.”

“No less than you deserve. I suggest you shut it and go and sit with your little friends before the rest of the village has its say because, trust me, you won’t like what you hear.”

Gary chuckled into his pint as he watched Toby retake his seat with the two tourists, doing a good job of maintaining his dignity as the entire room stared at him.

“Do you think it could be him?” said Gary quietly as the noise in the pub increased again now the drama was over. “What if he wants more murders to talk about on his little tour?”

“Good theory but no. Toby’s all bluster. Underneath he’s a complete coward.”

“Maybe you’re right. What about the tourists?”

“Not possible. They were at Toby’s house when the shooting started, I saw them.”

“What if they’re in it together?”

“Interesting, but I think unlikely. What’s their motive?”

“A cheap thrill. They might want to be part of Blair Dubh’s sick history.” He glanced at his watch. “Oh crap, Steve will be pissed off. I said I wouldn’t be long.” Hastily he downed his pint then hurried to the door. “Catch you later Sarge.”